Sunday, August 5

cranberries

I was hit by the force of it in the shower. My hair was dripping, my finger drawing on the fogged up glass. First a Z. Than an O. And lastly a E. That was my name. I finished it off with a little line on the E. That was my accent.

It was then. I was hit by the magnitude of an idea. An idea for my first novel.

Yes, I'm thirteen. Yes, I am writing a novel. Yes, I am in love with poetry. Yes, I will be spending the rest of my Sunday sitting next to my computer. Writing away. The sunlight dancing on my fingers as they race to type up something big.

Writing is easy, easy as cranberries. You just need the passion, and then, you're set.